Layers
by writerdude3000
Summary: Years after the Movie School of Rock, a falling socialte, a disturbed writer, his son, and a girl named Nina all begin looking for their place in a complicated and confusing world. R&R! Do people still review anymore?
1. Chapter 1

xX… well, I'm back (I can tell I was missed! ) The SOR Fanfic section sure has changed since last I was on the scene, let's hope I still got it… xX

"Aaron?" a short pause, "Please send the car down."

Hanging up, she looks around her apartment. It's old, it smells old. It's terrifying to be alone. Especially on the 16th floor. She looks up at the photograph of a man, hanging on above the mantleplace.

"I'm going, dear, I'm going…"

Grabbing her exquisite fur coat, she opens the door and steps out into the suffocating heat of the elevator hall.

Opening the door for her, Aaron smiles: "See you later, miss."

"Yes… Aaron. I suppose so."

Checking for her Opera Glasses in her handbag, she gets in the back of the Rolls Royce parked in front of the building and is off.

XOXO

The door of Prince International School fly open and smash against the granite of the building. The school is housed in three, very large brownstones, which have been converted into one school. The school is located between 68th, between 5th and Madison.

The students gush out, there are about 300 of them. All dressed in that same, strict uniform. For the boys- gray sweater vests, over a pinstriped shirt with a plain, thin, black tie and black pants. The girls are in the traditional pleated skirts, with white shirts, tie, that sort of thing.

David Mooneyham swings his book bag over his shoulder and pushed his floppy chestnut hair out of his eyes.

"You comin?" a girls voice calls. It's Nina. The tallest person David knows. She's drop dead gorgeous, tall, leggy, dark almond shaped eyes. Dark skin and long, naturally streaked black and blonde hair. She's already pulling off her shoes as she waits in the doorway for David.

"Yeah…" he says. Nodding to Mr. Tomson, wishing him a good weekend, "Let's go."

"Thought you'd never mention it," she says, smiling. They are some of the last to leave the school and as they descend the steps they are alone in front of the school front. They walk two blocks north, to 70th, talking about to Pre-Cal test and Nina pushes the door open to Crumbs bakery. Ordering two Black N' White cupcakes and one cup of tea (for David) and one coffee (for Nina), they settle into the two big easy chairs situated in the corner and sigh heavily.

The calm is disrupted by David's phone ringing, the Sex and the City theme song blaring in true Midi fashion throughout the tiny storefront.

"Da'?"

Through the voice, David can hear the gravely sound of his fathers voice,

"David… Where are you?"

"Crumbs, Da'… we discussed this last night." He's turning bright red.

"Well come home. I don't remember!"

"'Course you don't Da," in frustration he slams his phone shut and throws it back in his bookbag.

"Fuck it." He says. Nina laughs, cutting into the last half of her cupcake.

The door to Crumbs opens, the cold air flying in. A woman, middle aged, enters. Wearing a large fur coat. David stares at her.

"David…" Nina snaps him back, "Ok?"

He pauses, "Yeah. I think."

"You sure you're up for it?"

"'Course."

The lady buys a cup of coffee to go and leaves, stepping into a large black Rolls Royce.

"Well, than, I suggest we should get down there. If we're walking. We want to be first in line."

Still half distracted, David nods. Still in a daze, thinking of the woman, where has he seen her before, he slings his bag over his shoulder and places his mug and plate on the counter. Still in a trance he runs into the glass door.

"Oh god…" he says, blinking once or twice.

Nina's laughing behind him. "come on Mr. Mensa"

Halfway across the park David's phone starts to chime again, pulling it out he reads the caller ID: Dad. Annoyed he tosses it back in his bag.

"Dad?" Nina asks.

"Yeah."

On the West Side now, they pass 7th Avenue and enter the Times Square area, they head towards the Eugene O'Neill theater.

Entering the gilded lobby they make their way to the Same-Day ticket window.

"Two students please," David says to the bored looking man.

"47.98" he says, fixing his visor. But David isn't paying attention to the counter, he's paying attention to the black Rolls Royce that just pulled up in front of the theater.

"David!" hisses Nina from behind him, "Pay the man!"

"oh, Right," David says, fumbling into his wallet and taking the 23.99 that Nina is handing him. The woman gets out and enters the lobby, heading to the will call line, she speaks to the man.

"One ticket, Hathaway."

"Right, Miss Hathaway, enjoy the show."

"Thank you."

"47.98 SIR!" the man says, now annoyed. Nina is covering her face.

"Sorry." He hands the money to the man who prints two tickets for them. Taking their two tickets they go and lean up against the counter on the other end of the lobby. David is only half listening to Nina and her chatter about Chad Lackwood, the woman is staring straight at him. He looks away.

"Yes. I agree." David says, not listening.

"DAVID!" she say, throwing up her arms, "what the fuck is wrong with you today? I just asked what you thought of my Dad leaving my mum! Are you even listening?"

"Yes, yes, yes of course…"

The woman with the jet black hair and the fur coat smiles at David and hands her ticket to the ticket collector who just opened the door.

Nina gets up and goes in, David in tow.

"I'm excited about this, aren't you?" Nina says chirpily.

She receives her Playbill, it says Sweeney Todd on the cover. They take their seats. The woman not five rows behind them.

XOXO

"I saw him, love, at the theater." The woman says, staring at the photograph above her mantelpiece, "He looks just like his father, oh god," she covers her face with her hands, "JUST LIKE HIM!" she screams, throwing her fur coat on the couch. She goes into the kitchen, sobbing quietly, takes out a mug and putting up some tea.

"Fred, dear, I saw him, can you forgive me?" she pokes her head out of the kitchen, talking to the photograph.

"No. No you can't. 'course not." She says, crying, in hysterics. She drops the mug on the floor, no recollection of the act, moments later. The porcelain pieces shattering, she turns off the water and collapses onto the couch. Too tired and distraught to have any more thoughts. Or emotions. Or pain.

XOXO

"Where've you been?" he growls in his low, smoke infested voice.

"At the theater, Da, where you think?" David says, entering their suite at the Kelsey Grand Hotel that he lives in with his dad.

"I've been up half the night, waiting for you, I've got a deadline tomorrow and I'm up waiting for you!"

"Da," he says, his voice calming, "I know, love, I know." He takes out two mugs and puts some water on.

"Did you take your pills, Da?" he asks casually.

"Of course I did!" he shouts.

"I can see you haven't shaved." David says, glancing up at his Dads gruff appearance. A shirt stained with grease, khaki pants splotched with catsup, hair messed up, chin full of stubble.

"I didn't have time… None of your bleeding business anyway."

"I know, Da, I know…" he says, smiling, soothingly.

Tea mugs in hand, he puts his dad to bed.

"You can get up extra early and work on the article dad, it's too late for you."

"No! no… the deadline…" he says, through fits of sleepiness.

David puts the mug on his dad's nightstand and goes to his own room, flips on his computer and sips his tea.

He says hi to Nina who is logged on.

But she logs off.

Tired, he switches off his computer, finished his tea and climbs into bed, stripped down to his boxers and a white t-shirt. He pulls a book of Sarte from his nightstand and flips off his room light and the reading light on. But in ten minutes, he's asleep.

xX… well? …xX


	2. Chapter 2

xX… Too many reviews for me to handle! Lots of the locations in my story are real, some are fake. Like the Hotel David lives at and the school he goes to. …xX

"You've GOT to be kidding me?" he spits into the phone.

"Look, David, I'm so sorry… I can't help it. Really. It's not my fault!" her voice is near hysterics. On the verge of tears.

"Nina. You can't go away for three weeks! What am I supposed to do?"

"Will you stop being so god-damned selfish, David!" the phone goes quiet for a moment, "how do you think _I_ feel? I'm the one that has to go to Africa. I'm the one that has to teach English while my dad shoots another one of his fucking existentialism pictures. Gimme a break. It's three weeks. Amuse yourself."

There's a click.

"Nina?"

Nothing.

"Nina…? Did you hang-" he looks at his cell phone, "damn." He flings it across his bed, it lands with a thud on his crimson red pillow. He surveys his room, frustration building. He can't go on like this.

"DAVID!" a voice calls from the kitchen, "David, love, I'm here! You can go out now!"

Jamie. Saved by the bell. David grabs his cell phone and wallet and heads out the door, passing Jamie. In her normal, pristine clean green scrubs.

"Hi Jamie, thanks, bye Jamie!"

She laughs at him,

"Right, love. Just be back so I can leave." She turns to the stove and begins preparing dinner, "Where is he?"

"In the study, working on an article."

"Right."

He bolts down the hallway and taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the elevator. In the meantime, he gives himself the once over in the mirror by the elevator. He's not too unattractive, he says. He's got lots of chestnut hair, just everywhere. He's wearing dark corduroys, a pair of Tigers and a soft maroon shirt. Scratching his head he enters the elevator.

XOXO

"Excuse me, young man, you wouldn't happen to have three pennies, would you?" she says. Turning around to face Him.

He looks around and takes out his wallet, finding three pennies.

"Here, Miss." He says, quietly. Trying hard not to concentrate on her, instead, he's focusing in on the overhang that reads CRUMBS BAKERY.

"Thank you, dear." She says softly and hands exact change to the bored looking man behind the counter. She takes her cupcake in her veined hands and prepares to go and sit down, clutching a napkin, she stops and stares at him.

"You where at the theater the over day, weren't you?" she asks slyly.

The worst. He thinks.

"I dunno, what did you go and see?" he says, hoping it might not be true.

"Oh, what was it?" she says, thinking hard, "The one about the barber…."

"Sweeney Todd…?" he asks.

"Yes! Marvelous piece of theater, isn't it?" she asks, a twinkle returning to her eyes.

"I thought so. Innovative, I guess. I don't think I really got it though."

Just likes his father. Sure of himself, but not.

"You were with that pretty girl, weren't you?"

He sighs, a tear coming to his eye. "Yeah."

"she looked nice." She pauses and glances at her tea, "oh well. I guess I should get going. My name is Miss Hathaway. Summer."

"Nice to meet you," he says, taking her held out hand and shaking it, "David. David Mooneyham."

She stops and stares at him. The name…

"Oh…"

"Yes?" he says, anxious to get out of Crumbs.

"Would you like to come over and maybe clean my apartment. I would pay you, of course…" he looks taken back, shit, wrong move, "Oh dear. I was too hasty. Oh bother, just forget all about it. You're a fool Summer-"

"No, it's alright. That would be fine. I'll stop by after school next week."

"Oh, lovely." She takes out a receipt, not caring that it's one from Tiffany's that tells of 5,000 buck purchase. On the receipt she writes her apartment address down. With a flourish and a smile she goes and sits down.

She unlocks the door to her apartment. It's getting too big for her. She doesn't need all this space. Plus, it's so large, parts of it are always dark. She takes off her coat and hangs it up neatly. Feeling disheveled, she sits down on the plush sofa in the living room, not bothering to turn the lights on. There, she begins to cry. She takes her hand and begins to touch her face. So many wrinkles, so much age.

"Fred… I'm going to die…" she pauses and stares into nothing, "I'm so old Fred…. So old…"

"_Every day a little death  
In the parlor, in the bed  
In the curtains, in the silver  
In the buttons, in the bread  
Every day a little sting  
In the heart and in the head  
Every move and every breath  
And you hardly feel a thing  
Brings a perfect little death"_

XOXO

"Oy, David! Where's Nina?"

It's Dakin. Some rich-ass British kid who's Dad is some investment banker. David sighs and looks up, for some reason, his bag just seems so heavy.

"In Africa, Dakin. Africa."

"Ah." He says, as if that explains it all, "So than I guess you're all alone for a while, than, hmm?" he smirks. A content look on his face.

YOU WIN thinks David.

"Yeah. Guess so."

"That's just too bad for you, now, isn't it? You'll have to fly solo…"

Dakin is much taller than David, although they're the same age. And although they where the same uniform, Dakin looks much better in it. And he knows it. He's currently seeing Fiona. The principals secretary.

Dakin's friends laugh as David walks by. David shakes his head and goes to his locker. As he twirls his code he smells the oh too familiar smell of cologne behind him.

"Sorry, 'bout that, Davy." Dakin's voice cuts sharp through the awkward air, "My sole purpose in life is not to make your life a living hell, I promise that."

David has decided that the best course of action is to ignore him.

"Are you going to respond? Have I blown it?"

Nothing.

"I'd actually quite like to become friends, now that you're posse is gone."

David blinks, wait- what?

Dakin reads the sign,

"Yeah. So, see you around, than?"

Pause.

"See you around." Says David quietly.

Dakin walks off, David turns to see him go, watching after him as he saunters into a classroom.

"Fuck" he says, slamming his locker door shut.

xX… R and R …xX


	3. Chapter 3

xX… all I can say is: I hope you enjoy the story and R&R! I love getting' reviews! …xX

"Dakin?" her voice comes out skeptically.

"Dakin." He says, talking into the phone receiver while working on his homework.

"Weird." She says, drawing it out.

"Beyond weird…"

There's a little pause,

"How's filming?" he asks glumly.

"Oh. It's ok. Sorta boring. All I do is sit around the resort all day and watch the animals from the tree house bar."

"You poor thing!" he says, now only half listening as she extols the virtues of the resort.

"I miss you David." She says after explaining the intricacies of the German eating habits and why blood sausage is a bad thing.

He's stunned by this comment, a rare, unwavering support of their friendship.

"I miss you too…" nothing more to say, "but this phone call is costing me a fortune and I've got to go and pick up my dad. So, I'll see you in a coupla weeks?"

"Yeah." She says, though it doesn't sound inspiring.

He hangs up, slips on his flip-flops and grabs his key. Making his way out the door.

XOXO

"Everything OK today?" he asks his dad.

"Yes. Fine. Look at my floppy!" he says, showing a black floppy disk to his son.

"That's great, Da! We'll take it home and print it out so you can proofread it!"

"David? A word?" it's Nile Worpshire.

"What's wrong?" he says, sitting his dad down in a big armchair.

"I'm afraid that we've just gotten in the latest round of budget cuts."

"Oh." The flood is coming, he knows.

"And, your father, Zackary's column is first on our list of things to go. We just cannot keep printing it."

"But my father's famous!"

"Yes. We know. But a once-famous writer doesn't sell magazines. Plus- no body wants to read your fathers unedited musings on life, pain, medicine… these are intellectual things. We don't think our reader wants that."

"But," David says, sputtering slightly, "this is the NEW YORKER! The intellectuals orgasm of a magazine!"

"I'm sorry."

"Niles, sir, please…"

"David there's no more I can do. We also cannot allow your father to use The New Yorker writing facilities."

"Niles. You know that he doesn't work well in the apartment. Please."

"Rules are rules, David, now I'm sorry. Take your father and go home. Maybe he can write a book. You like existentialism. Tell him to write about that."

"You're nasty, you know that?"

The words are rather sharp for a child.

"I'm just following orders, David. Now go." He says softly.

David turns and does just that, "C'mon, Da." He says and his father stands up, and limps behind him slowly. Muttering to himself quietly.

XOXO

"Ma'am?"

"David!" she says, coming in from the kitchen, "I just need you in there, the library, the books are all askew, why don't you take them down and alphabetize them for me!"

The work is long and boring, but Ms Hathaway keeps up a constant stream of conversation to keep him amused. David looks at his watch, he's been here for three hours.

"Your father, Zackary, that's his name- isn't it?"

David pauses. What.

"I… how do you know?"

XOXO

The next day David sits in the student center of his school and listens to the CD that Ms. Hathway, or Summer, gave him.

"_you know I was on the honor roll,_

_Got good grades ain't got no soul"_

Those words sound like his fathers.

"Hullo."

Dakin.

"Dakin." He says quietly. Not really caring what he has to say.

"Nina back yet?"

"It's been a day."

"Right…" he says thoughtfully, "right."

David wishes he would just go away.

"What'cha listening to?" he says, in his annoyingly "right" voice.

"Nothing." He says. 

"Look, David." He stops and pulls David's headphones off, "are you going to make ANY effort?"

"What?"

"I'm trying to save you from social disgrace, so you're not friendless for weeks. God knows you're already enough of a loser, this doesn't help."

"oh, gee, thanks. But I'd rather sit here by myself than with you."

Dakin stops.

"Why the hell do you hate me so much?"

Good question, David's never REALLY thought about it. Why DOES he hate him so much? The fact that he's Dakin, the fact that jarringly he's the one calling the shots. Dakin is everything David WANTS to be.

His dad isn't fucked up.

XOXO

"Da? Can I ask you a question?" David asks, coming into his dad's study.

He looks up from his writing. That's all he ever does. WRITE. Right?

"What?"

"Do you remember Summer Hathaway?"

"Do I…? What?"

"Summer Hathaway." He repeats.

"I'm an old man, I've met so many people in my day… I can't remember."

"School of Rock?" he asks.

Zackary puts down his pen,

"Why can't I write for the New Yorker anymore?"

David wonders how to put this,

"do you want the truth, da?"

"Yes son. I miss the truth."

"Well than, the truth is you're washed up writer who no one really wants to read anymore. Plus- you're so incapacitated that it's a pain to get anything out of you."

The silence is long and painful.

"That's a mean thing to say, David… if your mother were here…"

"Well, the thing is dad, Mom's not here. So what if?"

He leaves and goes into his room.

Kids, Zackary thinks. Turning back to his writing.

"I've got a deadline, my readers must know… I've got to finish my column…" he mutters to himself as he works into the night.

xX… WELL? R and R …xX


	4. Chapter 4

xX... don't forget to review! ..xX

"So, my dad lost his job" he says into the phone, sitting on his bed, resting his aching head on a pillow.

There is a long, pained silence.

"God." she says, her voice choked, "Life isn't fucking fair, is it?"

"No It fucking isn't." he says, forcing a laugh.

But really, he is reeling. They don't have enough money to last them a long while, there are bills to be paid, medicine to be paid for, tuition. That doesn't come free. They'll manage. Somehow. You can't loose your head.

"Well that was a cheerful way to end our little chat. I'm sorry, David. Really. That blows. I'll call you later." she says sadly.

"Yeah." David murmurs, not caring anymore. He hangs up and puts the phone down. His head...

XoXoXo

David stares at the traffic light, pleading with it to change to green. Begging with his mind. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see him. Fast approaching.

"David!" His voice rings out like a bell.

Shit. Damn.

"David! Oy! Can you hear me?"

David turns,

"Hello Dakin."

He's breathless, his pale face a flustered red. He brushes some hair out of his eyes,

"David! Are you fuckin' deaf?" he spits. Readjusting his book bag.

"Sorry, Dakin. I'm a little out of it, it's not all here today." he says, tapping his head. Wishing this pest would just go the hell away.

Green. Thank you Jesus.

He takes off, walking in the hurried, annoyed fashion that only a true New Yorker can muster. Dakin keeps up,

"Look, David," he says, struggling to keep up, "I'm real sorry your dad lost his job." He stops. David turns to face him. They're standing in front of a coffee shop. Dakin with his back against the glass window. It looks straight out of Seinfeld.

"What?"

"Don't play idiot, I know. My dad does the fin'ance." He says, his accent making finance a lot more chic. "He noticed that, this month, your dad wasn't on the pay roll."

David is seething,

"Oh did he?" he says. His voice raising.

"We just thought you might've needed some help, you know, with the money and all.."

"Well isn't that just FUCKING quaint. How nice of you to be looking after me. Why the hell do you follow me everywhere. We're different people. GO AWAY. I don't want to deal with you, or your philanthropic dad, or anything right now. Leave me alone." He quiet down, "Just go away. Please." He turns and continues to walk, cursing himself for blowing up at Dakin. He didn't deserve that. As he walks away, he's too busy being defiant to notice Dakin. Leaning up against the glass of the coffee shop. Too confused to muster any response.

XoXoXo

"So you told him off?" She inquires, sipping her tea quietly.

"Yeah. I feel like crap, I know he was only just trying to help, but really." He says, undoing his tie and leaning back in his chair.

"Yes," she says firmly, "It was rather in bad taste."

"I'll say."

The day had been hell though. It seems as though Dakin had gone back to the old 'fuck off' attitude that he had had earlier. Contrary to what he thought, though, David didn't like being left alone so much.

"Well, now you have him out of your hair. I'll get to stop hearing about it. How's your father?" She asks. Taking out some stale cookies from the cupboard and offering them to David, he refuses politely.

"He lost his job." David says glumly.

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Hathaway. They let him go. Too much of a hassle."

"How on earth-" she starts. But David is sick of it.

"-We'll manage. Don't worry and, for gods sake, don't be a Dakin!"

"Yes. Yes, I mustn't." she turns back to cookies and takes a nibble, turning her nose up in disgust, she realizes that: yes, they are quite stale.

"Well, what do you say we start on the travel books? Get them alphabetizes and than I'll take you to a show?" She says hopefully.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hathaway. No show tonight. I've got to go home and cook for my da'. We had to loose some of the staff. Money problems. You got it."

"Yes. Yes of course." She says absentmindedly, staring at the portrait of Fred.

XoXoXo

"Argentine - Athens - Azerbaijan..." He murmurs to himself, alphabetizing the dated travel books. She's somewhere. Probably sleeping, taking a nap...

"London-" He stops. Something thick has fallen out of the London guide book. Unable to control himself he picks it up. It's a letter, addressed to Ms. Summer Hathaway. The envelope is thick, expensive parchment and David immediately recognizes the handwriting. His fathers.

_Summer-_

_Is it too late? It must be. By now you are probably married, thinking little of me. Here, in far away England- but Summer. I am thinking of you. Probably every day, my thoughts turns to you. To your skin, your lips, your voice, your... I digress._

_Summer, it pains me to think of you and Freddy together. It pains me to think of him and you. To think of the violation. To think of it all, I feel like curling up into a ball. But I know- you did what is best for Summer. Not for me, Zack. _

_If I may, I am no longer in the music business. One that proved unrewarding. I ended up becoming a pianist for the pit at a West End house, something I never wanted. One day, remember, I said. "Summer, I'm going to have the biggest god damn limo in Long Island". I remember that day well, that was the day that I left. That was the day I found out._

_I know that I can never forgive myself, but I hope that you can forgive me. As it is, I am too much a coward to come back, face the country, face Long Island, face my family. Face you. _

_Summer. I know this may mean nothing, but I love you. I loved you from the moment you walked into our classroom in 2nd grade. With your brown paper sack and funny little hat. No one might've noticed me ever. But I did a lot of watching. And Summer..._

_I watched you._

_I will try my best never to see you again._

_-Zack_

"Sometimes, it is best to leave things untouched." Her voice is cold and unkind. She moves, suddenly, quickly and fierce.

"Your father was an idiot. I was young. He was obsessed. He was sick. He was always sick, I do not care. Nor did I ever. I think that's all I need from you today David. Have a nice week, I'll see you next Tuesday." She opens the door to her apartment.

Bewildered, David leaves a stack of books that need shelving and staggers out of her apartment. He remains in this daze all the way out the building and down Park Avenue. All the way to the subway. All the way home. Well almost.

"Watch were you're going!" A voice says, in his trance, he walks into somebody. The voice is all too familiar.

"David?"

"Fancy seeing you again, Dakin."

"Yeah? Well piss off you little faggot." He sneers and pushes past him.

David feels the headache coming back on, all the pain of the day. Dakin - Nina - Summer - The end of the world.

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU NINA?

To make things worse, when David arrives home, his father is laying on the kitchen floor. Quite still and with a thing line of blood dribbling from his arm.

xX.. WELL? ..xX


End file.
